


Miss Mochaccino

by IZZYCHAN13



Series: BlackLatte [1]
Category: A Goofy Movie (1995), An Extremely Goofy Movie
Genre: F/M, Forced, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 04:56:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15502791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IZZYCHAN13/pseuds/IZZYCHAN13
Summary: BlackLatte AU. The trash can take itself out, but what's there to stop Bradley Uppercrust from coming back for more? (Originally published on deviantART in September 2011)





	1. Prologue

_"Hey! Daddy-Os. This is a real L7 scene. Let's just all take a trip down the road of forgiveness and compassion."_

_"Ooh, passion!—Heh heh heh! I like your style, little Miss Mochaccino—but I'm busy right now!"_

_"Well I'm dizzy right now from watching your downward spiral."_

_"Ah, why don't you go off and save some whales or something??"_

_"HA!—Oh you slay me tiger. You are the fly in my soup—You are the eyelash in my eye—You are so busy blowing out bad vibes in every di-rection that we are all choking on your secondhand smoke!"_

 

… That damn snapping.

 

Cold blue filtered into shallow pools on the humble stage. The dark red hair shone under the light. Luscious lips teased the space between her and the mesh. Darkened lids shut, relaxed. Another sermon condensed into fragments of speech.

 

Her voice is divine. Yet her attitude… leaves much to be desired.

 

A thumb and forefinger cradled the young man's chin as he leaned forward in the shady corner of the café: The Bean Scene, as everyone knew it.

Bradley Uppercrust fixed his gaze—his leer—upon the Beret Girl as her arms and graceful hands traveled toward the ceiling. A sudden dynamic pose to accentuate the message carried throughout her poetry and prose.

 

I can write better than she can.

 

He took a sip of coffee, piping hot—black, and set it down on the table. A scattered clicking of fingers and a closing of the curtain marked the end of her show. Another group came up to set up their ensemble. Today's theme: fusion lounge.

Brad chuckled before raising the cheap plastic to his lips. It had been a while since he heard a tune similar to the high end clubs he went to.

It hadn't been too long since that fateful confrontation with a certain black canine. That piece of lint. Still, his skills were impressive—

for a _freshman_. 

His mind diverted back to the Beret Girl, who sat at the little bar close to the cashier. Wandering eyes took in a view of those curvaceous hips, legs. Already Brad's clouded mind swam in those usual fantasies, stripped down like the inferior beautiful creature she was.

Apart from being known as the X-Games King, Bradley Uppercrust was the freest lover behind closed doors, (though he preferred them wide open). He had a sample of just about everything there was to offer. Men, women… Brunettes, blondes, redheads…

A curtain of garnet hair flowed through snow white fingers. Bradley seemed amused by the fact that she had not looked his way yet.

His presence was being ignored, or rather unnoticed. Brows furrowed together. The music group continued that slow beat. The jock peered down at the Rolex watch under his sleeve and figured it was near closing time.

Another sip and the sudden tapping of his long fingers on the table. Head crooked within his palm and his lips letting out a breath of hot air, sending his short bangs flying for a second.

One by one the beatniks left the Scene, eventually leaving only the cashier, janitor, band members, Brad and the Beret Girl behind. The scrape and clanks of their instruments irritated him; it tore him away from that alternate reality which he always imagined during some sacred silence…

But instead of secretly laughing behind their backs while they broke necks, he got up and walked right to them, "Need of some assistance?" loud enough for the café poet to hear. She turned 'round in her seat and nearly spilled the latte cupped in her hands. The young man shot her a devious smirk before disassembling the synth pad nearby. He overheard the clink of the ceramic upon the counter and the shutting of the backstage door.

"Perfect." Brad snickered under his breath.

"Well I think we're done here—thanks man!"

"Don't mention it."

He watched after their departure up the concrete steps. Under the dim light he saw the janitor with mop in hand while the cashier discussed some monetary issues with him. Their platonic conversation distracted the two from noticing the snake slithering into the back onstage.

A tiny hall greeted him, nearly pitch black but for a ribbon of light under a dressing room door…

"Who is it?" Another polite knock—"Come in."

Dark lids went up in shock when she saw his reflection in her illuminated mirror.

"Good evening, miss." clicking the panel shut. Instead of screaming aloud, the Beret Girl recollected herself and resumed her gaze of indifference,

"What brings you, of all pathetic creatures, here?"

"I think whales are pathetic too. Actually, I'm beginning to wonder. You don't make much money reciting your silly poetry, do you? Perhaps you could pursue a career in science? Marine biology, maybe. Any place is better than this dump—

"Then why are _you_ here?" Still talking to the reflection.

"There are no good coffee shops within a 16-mile radius. That's why. I'm impressed with that group—the ones that just left? I was almost tricked into thinking I was back home or something." He stifled a giggle; the girl twitched an eye and crumpled her nose, 

"You're a strange one."

"And I think—a hand running through red hair caught the young woman by surprise—a sudden shriek was quieted by forced contact. The white complexion smeared with pink when a muscle dug under her own—

Her arms were wrenched to her sides, leaving her helpless to the violation of her voice… Slowly did he trail out; a sinister chuckle to her bloodshot gaze…

"You're infernal."

The female gasped for air, "out."

"What now??"

"I said get out— _Out!_ " A sharp slap was blocked by astonishingly strong, thin fingers.

"Why so scared? Haven't you ever been French kissed before?" feigning innocence with shimmering sapphire eyes. The Beret Girl swore she saw the orbs glowing red—

"Please, get out. You," short breath, "shouldn't be here."

"Stupid woman. If you didn't want me here in the first place, you should have told someone to throw me out. As a matter of fact,"

Backing away from the shuddering starlet until he found the knob again,

"You should have screamed."

One lust-filled glare pierced through her being before the door shut once more.

 

A dead silence hung over… The Beret Girl couldn't hide away her look of fright on the golden pane.


	2. Chapter 2

"The nightingale sings. A scarlet letter burns upon our lives and snatches it away…

"But what can we do? Look toward the light, and find your answer."

The clapping of hands, "That was motivating as usual, m'am! Now, for our next entry… by 'Germaine'. Let's give her a warm welcome"

The Beret Girl made her bow towards the packed audience and slipped out of sight while the next contestant got up out of her seat and got on stage. Down the steps, she turned around to see her competition before being rammed headfirst into a damp cloth—

The introductory applause drowned out a horrifying scream.

The young woman felt herself surrounded by burly animals—Crazed eyes snapped from face to face, "Out the back," a calm hiss.

The last thing she could perceive was the visage of her most current nightmare looking down upon her with a wide smile, deprived of sanity.

Eyes fogged out, and then everything went black.

 

\-----

 

"I've read that novel."

The arms wandered on silk. Stirring in forced sleep. Cool. Comforting. As in a dream… Lips parted and searched for air…

"Ohh.."

The dark eyelids took forever to pry open. Opening, closing. Reds and golds. Velvet. Heat awash on every part of her body—

Too warm.

"What happened?" When a hand supported her delicate frame and when the focus sharpened into clarity, the Beret Girl realized something.

Immediately wrapping her exposed arms around her unclothed self.

The only cover was lace; obsidian hiding away her feminine treasures.

" _No._ " Pink became crimson when her wild orbs made contact with a silhouetted figure, lounging around in his regal seat, like that of a pharaoh, amidst the flames of his grand fireplace.

Bradley Uppercrust the Third was in nothing but his red, black lined robe.

"Have a good trip?" Incisors glimmered within the shade.

The girl saw her discarded clothes at his feet. She bolted for them, but felt the garment being pulled away. His breath like ice in all this intense heat,

"If you want them back, you're going to have to entertain me first."

Thin brows came together in disdain.

"Oh come now I'm not _all_ bad! I can be nice, if you want me to be… Of course,"

Suddenly bringing out a dagger behind him, "I can always use this as a last resort." Brad threw it over his shoulder and across the room. It landed in the middle of a soft, lush carpet.

The girl nearly fainted on the spot, bleach white.

 

"Ha ha ha!" Delicate fingers touched the cheek, "Pity. You're so beautiful…"

. . .

"Why?"

"What's the question again?"

"Why _me?_ " Licking his lips, he brought her forward in her kneel,

"Are you insinuating you haven't the slightest clue?"

Bradley's eyelids drooped as his brows came together, and gave a feather's kiss on quivering lips. Sudden chills went coursing through the woman's body. The junior took his chance and slid a gentle hand down her back, "Sit with me."

The Beret Girl stared in disbelief. The usual wackiness to his character was replaced by some Don Juan. Dark, persistent, yet gentlemanly in this request… She couldn't bring herself to "entertain" him willingly. The glint of silver on the carpet snapped her out of her trance and into deep blue pools. "Please, sit."

He put his lean, toned legs over the edge of the seat and helped her to a stand. The woman's body on silk nearly put her in Lust's spell, had it not been for the fact that this was the trash that had taken itself out…

"I—" Holding her close, a grip on her waist, then on her voluptuous curves, the jock went in for another deep kiss, giving just the tip of his tongue to hers. For a split second, she thought that his voice was growling incessantly in her mind, "join me". His strong arms under the liquid fabric wrapped all around her unstable frame. The woman found it hard to breathe when the wet muscle cleaned her neck and shoulder blade, "You…"

"What about me?"

"…"

"You're so shy when you're not up onstage… Cute." The predator's gaze went away for a second to give a child's smile. This only made the girl quite unsure about these actions, "Can't you give me just _one_ kiss?" 

It sounded as if he wanted the chocolate wrapped in foil.

The random image in the young woman's vision made her giggle suddenly.

"What's so funny??" playing along—touching his nose to hers. She couldn't stop herself from getting another hot rush to her cheeks—still giggling like a little girl. A side never seen in that café, "Nothing!"

"Nothing?" Bradley regained control of the situation and slid his whole tongue into dew-kissed lips… She fell. Within his embrace, his scent, and sweet nothings whispered in the back of her mind. Their exposed muscles greeted one another. At first Puppy Love, transforming into a crazed sinful necessity. The heat of the flames against silk caused a single bead of sweat to roll down her neck and side of her collarbone, lapped up by a desperate man. The hands finally found the clasp behind her and opened the brassiere, taking a caring hand between the woman's shoulder and her strap, leaving the thumb to remove the lace…

 

"You… will be the best one yet."

 

Yet?

 

Deep green eyes were all of a sudden up in shock, "What??"

Petrified as he took her right leg to his hip and leaned down upon his seat once more, with the Beret Girl on top,

"Maybe you weren't paying attention." She couldn't grasp what he meant,

"You should know that you're not the first, nor the last—

"Are you saying—?" hollow whisper.

"You're just another. Is there a problem with that?"

That was a big problem. When the words processed, her intoxicated gaze turned into a leer,

"Bradley."

"Miss Mochaccino." The same dark laugh from the confines of the dressing room…

"No. I don't want to do this

"anymore." Finishing her sentence, "But you _wanted_ to, and that's all that matters."

"I changed my mind!" The junior was far from impressed at her protest—

"When love is conditional, that isn't love at all. But I _know_ you want this." lowering his voice to a hiss before opening the robe and exposing his chest, "Now come here" motioning with his finger. She shook her head and tried to tear away, both legs held down by rough hands,

"I _said_ — Fingers went behind her head and pulled her down before she could yell. The other hand traveled to a snow white hill and rubbed feverishly despite her squirming, trembling. She went hard at the nip. He had to trail out of her mouth just to see her reaction—

"Stop!" He flashed a devilish smile and sat up, letting his robe slither down to the middle of his torso. More licks to her ghost's face before sucking hard at her breast and teasing her with his bared teeth, with the jaw never clamping down—

"Please _stop!_ " Then the other one, leaving a mess of hot saliva and sweat from his damp chest. A rushing of blood to his other head made him remove the robe completely. She didn't dare look down,

 

"But I'll make you."

He pinned her down to the lower end of the long cushion so that her hair was nearly touching the floor, neck barely supporting her skull, "Hold them together."

"What?!" An abnormal high pitch to her usual sultry voice.

"Hold them together." A stern tone. The atmosphere went cold, but the fire silhouetting their figures blazed on for what seemed like an eternity. 

Tiny yelps escaped as his erection went in between her coarse pair. At first slow, then pushing a little faster—faster still, beginning to throb to his moans…

"That's always a good alternative to masturbating."

His straightforward commentary was sickening. The Beret Girl shut her eyes to his lust-shot expression, but she didn't notice—

"Ah! _Ah!_ " Strong, thin fingers pressed harder into the lace mesh. The spot was touched, "Ahh—" Again. An appendage went through the black panties and only went in further in spite of the woman's sudden shrieks. Now two were inside, rocking and giving her a high degree of forced pleasure, muffled by another kiss—no longer caring, but wanting to eat her alive--!

"You want more." Spreading them out in front of her face, strewn with vaginal liquid. Soft pants answered his observation.

Uppercrust got up and lifted her, cradled in his arms.

At this point the girl didn't know what to do. This guy went from polite to dangerous in just a short amount of time. Whatever satisfaction she felt couldn't drown out the fact that she was just another sex doll to this aged demon, ensnared inside a 20-year-old body.

"You're so beautiful; I want you tied to my bed…"

Dark hands ran forever through flowing keratin as she was placed into the scarlet sheets, "just to see how long you would last." A slight scowl formed when he said this.

Nothing good could come out of this. Beret Girl's leer turned into a glare, "No chance of that."

The difference in height made it hard to even sit up—Uppercrust kept his body all over hers, feeling her up, massaging her legs, hips, behind—going in between to find her sheath again, hooking onto the hem of her cover. The poet's hands were powerless even as she put up a determined struggle, trying to wriggle away from this steel trap. Incisors bit down on her hill's peak and began to savor the rest of her. Bite marks shone red on white—he, growling like a wild animal—

"Br—Bradley!" His name echoing off the high walls. Going into overdrive when the lace was removed and about ready to go inside--

"I'm not happy. Are you?" Suddenly calm.

" _Go to hell!_ "

"I'm already _in it!!_ "

 

A blood curdling scream rang as he broke through skin, going all the way in—heavy thrust upon heavy thrust. The man's features darkened. This wasn't just another woman…

"Go on, little lady: Snap your fingers." Bradley let out a horrid, sadistic, childish giggle and delved in again. The woman let out another shriek, at last realizing why he had brought her here… Against her will, the girl began to shed crystal.

"Ohh!" Strong legs began to shake under the tension.

"Please! Stop—"

"I'm not through with you yet!" whispering harshly in her ear before nibbling the lobe. A few more thrusts were all he needed, "Ah!" pulling out just in time to let his dew sprinkle over an empty womb—"You're not worth having a child with."

Her brows furrowed despite the suffering and pitiful sobs. Miss Mochaccino had enough.

"I have more respect for the common whore than women like you. You. The way you act. The way you move. It screams, 'fuck me!'"

All she wanted to do was cover her ears; the jock had them wrenched to her sore sides. 

"I'm just fulfilling your wishes. Your innate desires…"

It was as if she were made of glass, he seeing right through her very being. Her heart ached as her mind cried out, "That's not true! That's not true!"

"It is. Don't deny it. It's within all of us." Glowing red eyes pierced through her own; his lips were sealed shut.

 

…

"Now tell me," now speaking, "if you don't mind... What's your _real_ name, little Miss Mochaccino?"

 

The woman spat in his face.

 

"Oh. You shouldn't have done that."

 

Violated. Where only a lost soul would go. Sodom and Gomorrah.

Bodies entwined, locked together. There was no love.

No love at all…

 

Yelling, screaming and cursing from each partner. Once or twice did he have to raise a dominant hand—

"Shut up Shut up SHUT UP!!"

"No!" The weeping only got more flagrant.

The noise pounded in his eardrums. He couldn't take it anymore. Bradley was going hysterical. She wasn't bleeding. Only bruises near the areas of her once sacred femininity after _his_ corruption—

A poisonous thought jolted through his brain—All of a sudden he wanted the Beret Girl dead, even if it meant having to strangle her with his bare hands—

 

_But that's not what I want!!_

 

He exploded within her, and the twisted fantasy died with it.

 

"Agh!" Burying his face and screaming into her bosom, before he burst into tears.

 

Like a child that had lost its mother.

 

_I'm tired! So tired… So tired._

 

They slowly distanced themselves from one another. In excruciating pain, emotional turmoil, and a confused, scorching hatred. The junior collapsed—a dead man trying to get off the bed.

Bloodshot eyes could never understand what this creature knew, what he went through to get himself in such a damned place as this, cold and shivering on the ground. And how she, a woman that meant no harm, only living to express her deepest thoughts, fears and desires in the guise of pretty, sensual words—ended up being dragged down with him…

 

This Hell on Earth.


End file.
